


you take me to the nicest places

by haloud



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Biting, Blow Jobs, Casual Sex, M/M, Oral Fixation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-11-08 18:16:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20839901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haloud/pseuds/haloud
Summary: Michael and Kyle hook up in the back of Michael's truck.





	you take me to the nicest places

**Author's Note:**

> continued from a ficlet on tumblr. characters are drinking during the scene but neither are drunk and everything is consensual.
> 
> this fic is not for redistribution without express permission.

“You take me to the nicest places,” Kyle says to the stars, and all he gets in response is Guerin’s teeth on the inside of his thigh. He takes a slug of tequila and lets his head fall back into the nest that Guerin’s made of his truck bed. He doesn’t have to be drunk to go for a ride with Michael Guerin, but the act of drinking in itself, the smell of it, the wetness and the burn—enhances the experience somehow. It’s nighttime, cold and dry in Kyle’s lungs, but Guerin’s hands on the bare skin of his legs feel like noontime sand, blistering hot and rough; he strokes against the grain of the hair on Kyle’s calves then back down again, spreads his fingers, rolls his thumbs over top of Kyle’s shins, tactile and greedy like he can’t get enough of the touching.

Kyle’s eyes flutter open again as Guerin licks into the crease of his thigh. Guerin is—he’s bearable at night, alone and underneath the big dark sky, when the sunlight isn’t lighting him up from the inside out. Kyle could never do this in the daylight, and it’s not for the reasons it used to be. But at night his hair’s just brown, and his eyes’re just eyes, not gold like liquor and twice as hazardous to the health.

“You know,” he says, “We could have taken my car. The backseat’s nice and big, and in it there’s a 0% chance of a coyote seeing your dick.”

“My chariot not swank enough for you, princess?” Guerin demands, and bites Kyle harder this time, sharper and higher up, hard enough to leave little red marks. Kyle grins, having goaded him into giving him teeth.

“Get up here,” he says, grabbing those curls and yanking them, hauling Guerin up ‘til he’s sprawled over Kyle’s stomach, close enough for him to lean in and bite at his lips instead. Kyle tastes like tequila, and he nips at a chapped spot until Guerin tastes a little bit like iron and salt.

“You want your dick sucked or not, Valenti?” Guerin asks, blood beading on his lower lip, his voice gone smoky and soft enough to give Kyle the shivers.

“I bet you your entire bar tab that we’re gonna get there sooner or later.”

“Mm, a betting man.”

Kyle slides his hands up Michael’s upper arms to his shoulders, where he massages that tense muscle, digging in his fingertips.

Guerin wraps his too-hot hands around Kyle’s wrists but doesn’t pull, doesn’t push him away, doesn’t pin him down to the blankets—just lingers there for a long moment while Guerin watches Kyle’s mouth with his own lips parted, then ducks his head and laves the flat of his tongue across his nipple, making Kyle arch into it with a gasp and a laugh and then a moan when he feels, again and again, the scrape of those sharp teeth.

“God, you’re the worst,” he says breathlessly, as Guerin switches sides. Absentminded, Kyle kneads his hand in Guerin’s hair, the texture soft and giving under his touch, curls wrapping and clinging around his fingers—and it makes Guerin pause, let out a harsh, noiseless breath dewy against Kyle’s skin. Just testing, Kyle _pulls, _slowly and surely applying pressure until his head tips back into Kyle’s hand, eyes fluttering shut.

Then Kyle lets go, the curls spring back into place, and Guerin’s head snaps forward. His eyes open, lidded and hot and mesmerizing as he ducks down even further. He spreads a hand low, low on Kyle’s belly and laves his tongue into every crease of Kyle’s abs, detailing each muscle in wet heat, and helpless, Kyle shouts _fuck _into the night, back arching up into that touch. He chases the word with another swig of tequila and a giant gasp of air. 

Guerin presses him back down, firm against his belly, and then as soon as Kyle settles those hands are moving again, down to part and pet at his thighs; then he pulls back, drags the back of one hand across his red mouth. He laughs a bit, says, “Damn, you’re fit,” then a finger slides oh-so-lightly down the line where Kyle’s quad is defined.

“Always nice to have your,” Kyle squirms as the ticklish sensation repeats on his other thigh, “hard work appreciated.”

“I’ll show you _hard _work.”

“That was awful. My dick is soft now. Get away from me.”

Guerin just laughs and bends over, licking a thick stripe up Kyle’s throbbing cock, making Kyle hiss and jerk his hips forward into that heat; that hiss becomes a soft hum of a moan as Guerin fits his mouth over the tip and sucks gently, the tip of his tongue moving in tiny little circles just under the head. Kyle’s hand flies back down to his hair like magnets are involved, and he lets his eyes fall closed again as Guerin works. He’s a motherfucking cocksucking _maestro, _and Kyle grins through the next moan that falls out of his mouth.

_God _Guerin’s a good time. He sinks down slowly, slowly, Kyle’s cock sliding past his lips in inches, sliding against the texture of his soft palate, the head nudging into his throat as he bottoms out and pulls back, before diving in again. He sucks cock with his eyes closed and his brow unfurrowed, like it’s the best damn thing he’s had all day.

“That’s so fucking good,” Kyle praises, “Fuck, don’t stop. _Guerin._” He drops his hand back to Guerin’s shoulder to rub at those muscles; he chances a brush of his fingertips across Guerin’s working throat, and the feel of him pulls out another deep moan.

Guerin swallows deep at his words, swallows again against his touch, and swallows a third time just for good measure, before he has to pull away to suck in a deep and desperate breath. His eyes, exerted tears clumping up his lashes, flick up to Kyle’s just for a second as he works his fist around Kyle’s dick instead; then he dives back in, chasing his own hand with his lips and tongue, stroking Kyle through it as he nuzzles in deeper to fit his mouth around Kyle’s balls and suck there too, working that talented mouth as best he can.

All Kyle can hope to do is hold on, clenching his thighs tight around Guerin’s head and arching his hips off the blankets. The tequila tips over beside him and he fumbles for it to cap it up before it gets everywhere, but not before the smell of it is on the air, blazing hot and boozy cutting through the cool night.

Guerin’s head bobs back up, tongue following the vein on the underside of Kyle’s dick until he reaches the tip and swallows him back again. This time Kyle’s hips buck up on instinct—and Guerin grabs him, fingertips digging into his ass, thumbs rolling against the points of his hipbones, and encourages every sharp and swirling motion that forces himself in deeper. And god, god, it’s more the idea of it than anything else, than even the tight, soft, wet pressure grasping at his cock, the idea of Guerin letting him fuck that smart, sarcastic mouth, the idea of him _loving _it. Kyle comes hard and sudden, throwing his arm over his eyes and crying out wordlessly, hips jerking up with every shot.

Slow and lingering and humming still—smug bastard—Guerin pulls off with a _pop _and leans to the side to spit into the sand. Then he pops back up with a grin on his face, with his mouth strawberry red and a line of drool gleaming on his chin, and he laughs at the dumbstruck look on Kyle’s face.

“Gimme that,” is all he says (and _fuck _his voice is _ruined_), and he hauls himself up and drops down next to Kyle, snatching up the tequila before Kyle can hand it to him. He uncaps it again and takes a couple swallows with relish—then leans over to smack a kiss across Kyle’s mouth so he tastes the liquor and the last of his spend all smeared across his lips.

Kyle licks his lips and works his throat a couple times before his voice comes out. “Want me to return the favor?” He finally manages, gesturing vaguely downwards to where Guerin’s jeans are still all buttoned up and zipped.

“Let’s call it an IOU,” he says, and that’s okay—the thought of owing Guerin anything, the thought of them acknowledging the inevitable _next time. _

“My car next time.”

“_Whatever, _Valenti,” Guerin laughs, and crosses his legs at the knee as he leans back against the cab of the truck, leaning back so he can look at the stars. “My ride’s got the better view.”

**Author's Note:**

> I HAVE NO EXCUSES I JUST LIKE WRITING MICHAEL SUCKING DICK
> 
> discord @ haloud  
tumblr @ cosmicsolipsism


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